


Compass

by Creed Cascade (creedcascade)



Category: Tour of Duty (1987)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post-War, Soldiers, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:51:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creedcascade/pseuds/Creed%20Cascade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life can be directionless, until we find our compass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compass

A few words had defined Zeke’s life over the years.

His mama told the people at the orphanage, “I don’t want him…”

Carol told him, “You don’t love me the way you should…”

But what tore his heart out most of all was when his baby girl had cried when he visited her. Katie didn’t need words then. Turning away in fear from a daddy she didn’t remember. Her tears screamed to Zeke about his failure as a daddy.

And then there were the words from Myron that he could never forget. Words that tortured him more than anything Carol ever said to him. Because one word from that anger filled, broken boy was worth more than anything his wife had said to him.

“You’re already gone to me.”

“What?”

“That’s what you came to tell me, isn’t it? You came to tell me that you were going back stateside.”

“Yeah, I came to say…”

“Goodbye? Go ahead and say it, Sergeant. Because there’s nothing else you have the right to say to me.”

“I want to say…”

I love you. We need each other. I don’t want to leave you. I’ll wait for you.

“Just say goodbye, Zeke.”

++++++

Zeke’s life may have lacked love at some points, but it had never lacked direction. Life in the orphanage had been the perfect training ground for a life in the army with its comfortable routine. He learned how to follow orders and the skills his country told him they needed from him. His country told him they needed a soldier and Zeke became intimately acquainted with death. So many faces blurred in a sea of blood. Those were the faces that screamed at him in his dreams with accusations and cried for their mamas. The dreams were familiar and he could push away the guilt when he had to. His pain wasn’t important as long as he had direction.

This morning, the screams were just as real as the day they escaped the lips of lambs led to slaughter… even though he had left Vietnam across the ocean. Never really left behind, because it would always be with him. Facing life with Jennifer had only made him realize she was the doorway to a life with no direction. Leaving for the last and final time should have set that old fear boiling in his blood, but this time was different. This time Zeke knew he had the compass that would guide him the rest of his life and not to his grave.

Zeke reached over and ran his finger gently over Myron’s eyebrow. Myron stirred in his leep and his forehead creased with a scowl. Zeke smiled and shook his head at the sight. Even in his sleep, Myron was too intense. He leaned in and kissed Myron’s forehead, pleased when Myron huffed a little, but nestled against Zeke’s warmth.

++++++

Mot… *whack* Hai… *whack* Ba… *whack* Bon… *whack* Nam… *whack*

Children’s giggles and happy screams of delight.

Sau… *whack* Bay… *whack* Tam… *whack* Chin… *whack* Muoi…

What sounded like a whip slicing through the air…

Myron’s breath caught at the sounds of Vietnamese and his palms became sweaty. He wanted to reach for his weapon, but he was unarmed. More chatter from the children in the language that made him think he was back humping through the bush. Just because they were children, didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous.

A little girl saw him watching them and called out with a wave, “Chau!”

Myron had tightened his hands into fists. This wasn’t ‘Nam. These kids weren’t trying to kill him. And then the only sound he could focus on was starting again…

Mot… *whack* Hai… *whack* Ba… *whack* Bon… *whack* Nam… *whack*

Not a whip cutting into the flesh of a POW. It was only the sound of a skipping rope hitting the sidewalk. Myron had to leave when he thought about how easy it would be to snap their necks to stop the sound…

++++++

Myron stirred, sensing that Zeke was watching him again. His life seemed surreal and each breath sometimes felt like it was a dream. Too real to be real. Back in Vietnam, he didn’t let himself live for what could be. But even living had become painful as the men… boys, under his command continued to die and his heart hardened. Only Zeke remained real through filth, blood and jungle. His one constant. His friend… his everything.

“You’re thinkin’ too hard,” Zeke whispered against Myron’s hair.

“Fuck off,” Myron mumbled.

“Good mornin’,” Zeke chuckled. “I love ya because you’re all sweetness and…”

“Shut up, Zeke.”

“…if we get up, we can get some coffee. Ya want some coffee?” Zeke asked in a cheerful tone and his hand massaged Myron’s hip.

Myron covered his eyes with his forearm. “God is punishing me.”

“That, my friend, is called a hangover…” Zeke’s hand moved from Myron’s hip to his head and rubbed gently. “Jack Daniel’s will do that to ya every time.”

“Zeke, where are we?”

“Other than this crappy motel? No idea. Kept driving’ until we almost ran out of gas.”

Myron sighed heavily and slid his arm away from his face to consider Zeke. “I don’t remember…”

“I dragged your sorry ass in here,” Zeke told him and smirked. “Took advantage of ya…”

“Did not,” Myron grumbled. He looked over to the bedside stand for a pack of Marlboros, but didn’t see any.

“I’ll get ya some smokes soon,” Zeke told him, reading his actions too easily. “And there’s a couple swigs of whisky left in the truck. Just enough to take the edge off that hangover.”

“Maybe we should go back…”

“No.” Zeke shook his head and tightened his grip on Myron. “You’re not the only who’s done with the city…”

++++++

The sound was soft but constant.

Buzz…

Even over the drone of traffic, Zeke could hear it.

Buzz… Buzz… Buzz…

Turning on the television was no distraction. The cheering of the crowd at the Yankees game only sounded like thousands of insects crawling into his ear.

Zeke couldn’t take it anymore. He got out of his chair and was pacing in the small, shabby apartment he shared with Myron.

Buzz… Buzz… Buzz…

Making his ears want to bleed. The angel of death so small you never saw it coming.

Buzz… *SMASH*

Zeke looked down at the blood trickling down his hand to his wrist and then looked up at the shattered window. The damn fly was perched on a shard of glass, taunting him.

++++++

“The guy at the front desk didn’t ask any questions?”

“Nope,” Zeke shook his head. He handed over the smokes and bottle of whiskey he’d gotten for Myron. “Why would he care? He’s got our money.”

Myron had already unscrewed the top of the Jack Daniel’s bottle and taken a long swig. “Two guys sharing one room? This isn’t New York.”

“Sure isn’t. I saw cattle across the highway.”

“Cows? How far did you drive while I was passed out, Zeke? Do I have to worry about hillbillies?”

“Far enough. Feels right bein’ away from that city. Ya can actually breathe…”

Myron snorted and set the bottle down on the bedside table. He opened the pack of cigarettes and sighed in satisfaction when he lit one. “Now I can breathe.”

“After we clean up some, we can go out ‘n’ get some grub.”

Myron took a long drag and grabbed his temple. “And then what, Zeke?”

“Then I figure we’ll go buy ya some painkillers.”

The ember burned bright and the heavy ash grew impossibly long. “You heard me the first time. What are we supposed to do now?” He blew a steady stream of smoke through his nose. “We don’t know where we’re going. We don’t know what we’re gonna do…”

Zeke laid his hand on Myron’s thigh and squeezed. “Myron…”

“Don’t start with me, Zeke,” Myron snapped at him. “We’re idiots, aren’t we? Because that’s the only reason I can think of for why we would just take off from our lives. We just left. A man doesn’t run away from his life… from his responsibilities… We walked out on our landlord… our jobs…”

Zeke’s hand squeezed Myron’s thigh. “The landlord overcharged us anyway ‘n’ he got ta keep the security deposit. And we both know ya wouldn’t have lasted much longer at that job of yours anyway. What was that, your fourth one?”

“Third.” Myron sighed in irritation, running his hand over the back of his neck. “They were shitty, dead end jobs that I took the pay the rent.”

“We have enough…”

“I don’t want to touch that money.” Myron glanced sideways at Zeke. “Don’t give me that look. I’m not touching the money my old man gave me.”

Now it was Zeke’s turn to sigh. “What about…”

“My money from the army?” Myron snorted with distaste. “I don’t want to touch that either. Maybe… maybe someday, but not now. I’m not touching that blood money unless I have to. So, you tell me, Zeke, what are we supposed to do? Running away was stupid. You have Katie to think about…”

“Myron…”

“I know you didn’t hate your job. Maybe if we go back now, you can talk to your boss and…”

“LT!” Zeke snapped, smiling when Myron gaped at him. “We ain’t goin’ back. What did I tell ya when I came back?”

+++++++

“You’re one stubborn, mule-headed son of a bitch, boy. Thinkin’ ya can tell me what’s best for me.” Zeke got into Myron’s face spitting mad, his finger poking right into Myron’s sweat soaked shirt.

“You weren’t supposed to come back!” Myron hissed at him. “I told you not to come back!”

“And I made the mistake of listenin’ ta ya,” Zeke growled back. “Let ya talk me inta doin’ the stupidest thing in my life.”

“No… no… coming back here was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. You’re supposed…” Myron stopped and his voice hitched, growing quieter and filled with pain. “You’re supposed to be stateside with Jen. You’re supposed to be safe!”

Zeke leaned in close and touched his forehead against Myron’s. He breathed in deep that unique smell of Myron now… cigarettes, cheap booth, sweat and jungle. But under all of that reek of despair and Vietnam was his Myron. Myron’s eyes were wild, frantic, and burning with anger. He loved that anger because that meant Myron was still fighting and not drowning in the misery.

Zeke grabbed Myron’s face with both of his hands, his fingers digging into the scratch of his whiskers. He dared to kiss Myron now, even though he knew the thin walls of his hootch offered no real protection. Kissing Myron because he could never say goodbye again. When he pulled away, Myron was glaring at him and Zeke knew the boy was hurting… unable to completely trust him now. Because even though Myron had pushed him away, Myron might not ever forgive him for actually leaving.

“Can’t ever get rid of me again, LT.”

++++++

“Tell me again why I let you talk me into staying in this hellhole?” Myron groused.

His eyes followed the crack in the plaster that ran from floor to ceiling. He leaned down and adjusted the pack of cards under the leg of the kitchen table. The floor on this side of the house tilted far too much. He remembered when they were first looking at the property and Zeke had squeezed into the crawl space, yelling back that the foundation had just settled, but was sturdy enough.

“’Cause it’s cheap,” Zeke laughed. He plopped down a plate in front of Myron that was loaded with eggs, sausages and toast. “It’s private ‘n’ it came with the dog.”

“Yeah, the dog…” Myron’s tone was full of sarcasm, but he still tossed the mutt under the table one of his sausages. He glared at Zeke when the man just took one from his own plate and put it on Myron’s. “Don’t you dare start with me that I’m not eating enough.”

Zeke picked up his toast, took a bite and then used it to point at Myron. “You don’t…” Zeke chided. “And do you really want Bill’s wife snoopin’ around here, bringin’ by her burnt, rock hard bread again all ‘cause she’s afraid you’re gonna waste away?”

Myron stabbed at his sunny side up eggs viciously, watching the yolk seep out. “What did you tell them about us?”

“Jus’ told them we were family.” When Myron didn’t say anything, he gently nudged him in the shin with his bare foot until Myron looked up. “It’s true.”

“Yeah,” Myron grumbled and moved his own bare foot under the table until it rested on Zeke’s. He made a disgusted nose and moved it away quickly when he felt the dog lick at his big toe. “Stupid dog.”

Zeke’s laugh filled the room and scratched behind the dog’s ear. “We should give that dog a name…”

“He already answers to Dog,” Myron said. He dipped his toast into the runny yolks, smearing it around the plate before taking a big bite. “When’s your shift start today at the range?”

“After lunch,” Zeke answered. He pushed the cup of coffee he had been drinking at Myron, who picked it up to take a sip. “We got a new shipment of ammo comin’ in I gotta inventory.”

Myron took another sip of the coffee and pushed it back to Zeke, who took his own sip. “I’ll come in with you. I promised I’d take a look at the books.”

“You’ve been helpin’ out there more,” Zeke pointed out. “Didn’t think you’d wanna be around guns after…”

“I know guns…” Myron told him, his eyes glued to his massacred breakfast.

Zeke knew exactly what Myron was talking about in an instant. Weapons were familiar and comfortable in a strange way. Being in a place like the gun range let Myron know he wasn’t a freak for knowing how and wanting to handle a rifle. His weapons had been death and destruction, but also it had been security and safety. Guns had been his protection. His way to protect Zeke and his men… an extension of himself. The space, and working with Zeke, was comfortable in a world he felt like he wasn’t a part of anymore.

“Ya know that ol’ man can use as much help as he can get,” Zeke said. “He was jus’ sayin’ the other day how he was thinkin’ of sellin’ the place…”

Myron didn’t look up, but his foot came to rest on Zeke’s foot again. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mm hmm,” Zeke hummed. “Jus’ has ta find the right people. Figure it might take awhile.”

“That right,” Myron commented nonchalantly and finished off his toast. “I suppose we can stay around here for awhile. It’s not a complete hellhole.”

Zeke leaned across the small table to kiss Myron lightly. “Not with you here.”

“Asshole,” Myron grumbled under his breath, but half smiled at Zeke. “You’d be lost without me. And I suppose I’d have no one to make my coffee if you weren’t around…”

Zeke flashed a genuine grin at Myron, who just glared at him. “It’s all about priorities ‘n’ finding direction, LT.”

END.


End file.
